THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL 


Edna  Dean  Proctor 


IRLF 


SDean  JjJroctor 


SONGS  OF  AMERICA.    lamo,  $1.25,  net.   Postage 

extra. 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  ANCIENT  PEOPLE.    With 

Introduction   and    Notes  by   JOHN   FISKE,   and 

Commentary.    8vo,  leather,  $5.00,  net ;  postpaid. 
A  RUSSIAN  JOURNEY.    Illustrated.    i6mo,  $1.25. 
POEMS.     i6mo,  51-25. 
THE  MOUNTAIN   MAID,  AND   OTHER    POEMS 

OF    NEW    HAMPSHIRE.     Illustrated.     Square 

8vo,  $1.00. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL 

AND   OTHER    POEMS 

BY 

EDNA   DEAN    PROCTOR 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

rc£a  CambttD0e 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,    1916,   BY  EDNA   DEAN  PROCTOR 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  October  iqib 


TO 
TOILERS    EVERYWHERE 


358006 


CONTENTS 

THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL  I 

THE  GOAL  OF  THE  WORLD  5 

THE  WAR  IN  EUROPE 1915  7 

A  MECCAN  PROPHECY  I  I 

A  SEA-BIRD  13 

THE  TRYST  BY  THE  GRAND  CANYON  15 

THE  WAY  TO  WAKONDA  21 

A  WOMAN  OF  PARIS  22 

PERSIA  TO  EUROPE  25 

CHARLES  GEORGE  GORDON  27 

MOUNT  TACOMA  28 
THE  FIRE-MAIDEN  AND  THE  SNOW-PEAKS       J2 

ON  THE  MASSACHUSETTS  COAST  37 

AN  ANGEL  40 

EBB  AND  FLOW  41 

TO-MORROW  44 
[  vii] 


CONTENTS 

DANIEL  WEBSTER  46 

CONCORD  BY  THE  MERRIMACK  £O 

THE  CAGED  ROBIN  £2 

BOLfvAR  54 

A  HERO  OF  CARACAS  J£ 

DOUGLAS  58 

FORGIVENESS  59 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  6l 

NOTES  63 


THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL 


THE  GLORY  OF  TOIL 

WHETHER  they  delve  in  the  buried  coal, 
or  plough  the  upland  soil, 

Or  man  the  seas,  or  measure  the  suns, 
hail  to  the  men  who  toil! 

It  was  stress  and  strain,  in  wood  and 
cave,  while  the  primal  ages  ran, 

That  broadened  the  brow,  and  built  the 
brain,  and  made  of  a  brute  a  man ; 

And  better  the  lot  of  the  sunless  mine, 
the  fisher's  perilous  sea, 

Than  the  slothful  ease  of  him  who 
sleeps  in  the  shade  of  his  bread 
fruit  tree ; 

For  sloth  is  death  and  stress  is  life  in  all 
God's  realms  that  are, 

And  the  joy  of  the  limitless  heavens  is 
the  whirl  of  star  with  star ! 

[i  i 


THE   GLORY    OF   TOIL 

Still  reigns  the  ancient  order  —  to  sow, 

and  reap,  and  spin ; 
But  oh,  the  spur  of  the  doing !  and  oh, 

the  goals  to  win, 

Where  each,  from  the  least  to  the  great 
est,  must  bravely  bear  his  part  — 
Make    straight   the   furrows,  or   shape 

the  laws,  or  dare  the  crowded 

mart! 
And  he  who  lays  firm  the  foundations, 

though  strong   right   arm   may 

tire, 
Is  worthy  as  he  who  curves  the  arch  and 

dreams  the  airy  spire; 
For  both  have  reared  the  minster  that 

shrines  the  sacred  fire. 

Floods  drown  the  fairest  valleys ;  fields 
droop  in  the  August  blaze ; 

Yet  rain  and  sun  are  God's  angels  that 
give  us  the  harvest  days, 


THE    GLORY    OF   TOIL 

And  toil  is  the  world's  salvation,  though 

stern  may  be  its  ways : 
Far  from  the  lair  it  has  led  us  —  far 

from  the  gloom  of  the  cave  — 
Till  lo,  we  are  lords  of  Nature  instead 

of  her  crouching  slave ! 
And  slowly  it  brings  us  nearer  to  the 

ultimate  soul  of  things : 
We  are  weighing  the  atoms,  and  wed 
ding  the  seas,  and  cleaving  the 

air  with  wings ; 
And  draining  the  tropic  marshes  where 

death  had  lain  in  wait, 
And  piercing  the  polar  solitudes,  for  all 

their  icy  state; 
And  luring  the  subtle  electric  flame  to 

set  us  free  from  the  clod  — 
O  toiling  Brothers,  the  earth  around,  we 

are  working  together  with  God ! 
With    God,   the    infinite   Toiler,    who 

dwells  with  His  humblest  ones, 
[3  ] 


THE    GLORY   OF   TOIL 

And  tints  the  dawn  and  the  lily,  and 

flies  with  the  flying  suns, 
And  forever,  through  love  and  service, 

though  days  may  be  drear  and 

dim, 
Is  guiding  the  whole  creation  up  from 

the  deeps  to  Him ! 


THE  GOAL  OF  THE  WORLD 

(Words  for  the  central  movement  of  Chopin's 
«  Funeral  March  ") 

O  the  goal  of  the  world  is  Joy  — 
Joy  divine  that  is  born  of  love ! 
Sorrows  are  wings  that  safe  convoy 

The  soul  to  its  nobler  realms  above. 
There  are  days  that  darken  and  die  in 

gloom 
Till  the  heart  is  heavy  with  grief  and 

wrong, 
Yet  still  in  the  shadow  some  rose  will 

bloom, 
And  still  through  the  wail  there  runs 

a  song; 

For  loss  and  anguish  are  only  the  beat 
Of  the  wild  March  rains  that  bring 
the  sheaves, 

[5] 


THE    GOAL    OF   THE    WORLD 

And  a  wind  of  heaven  will  woo  our 

feet 
To  the  vales  of  peace  in  the  harvest 


eves. 


Never  a  star  too  late  or  dim 

To  hold  its  way  with  the  central  sun; 
Nor  a  voice  too  faint  to  swell  the  hymn 

By  the    Father's    throne   when    the 

years  are  done  — 
The  ages  of  God  that  are  moulding  fair 

Each  life  for  the  glory  that  is  to  be; 
Nor  the  woes  of  earth  nor  the  powers 
of  air 

Can  stay  from  the  palms  and  the  crys 
tal  sea ! 
For  oh,  the  goal  of  the  world  is  Joy  — 

Joy  divine  that  is  born  of  love: 
Sorrows  are  wings  that  safe  convoy 

The  soul  to  its  nobler  realms  above! 


THE  WAR  IN  EUROPE  — 1915' 

(Abdallah  of  Cairo  speaks) 

BY  the  Prophet !   If  these  be  Christians, 

where  shall  we  find  the  Heathen  ? 

If  this  is  their  gospel  of  Love,  where 

shall  we  look  for  Hate  ? 
With  the  lilies  of  Peace  their  Jesus  in 

temple  and  shrine  is  wreathen, 
But  they  raven  like  wolves  in  the  fold 
when  the  moon  is  late. 

And  for  'what?  For  the  market ;  for  greed 

of  gold  and  dominion ; 
To  rule  to  the  uttermost  sea  and  the 

shores  no  foot  has  trod; 
Their  impious   fleets  sail  the  sky,  but 

never  a  pinion 

Bears  the  beleaguered  spirit  to  regions 
above  the  clod. 
[7] 


THE   WAR   IN    EUROPE 

A  blast  of  the  desert  were  we  in  our 

fervor,  our  valor, 
From  Khalid  to  Amrou  and  Musa, 

lords  of  the  Western  world ! 
Alike  in  the  flush  of  triumph,  the  death 

angel's  pallor, 

We  were  soldiers  of  God  and  our 
banners  were  only  in  Paradise 
furled! 

These  carry  their  Goddess  with  them  — 

the  Virgin  they  dare  bedizen 
With  jewels  and  robe  of  silver  or  fret 

of  gold  to  her  feet ; 
Blessed,  thrice  blessed  be  Allah !  the  soul 

that  to  Him  has  risen 
Nor  images  needs,  nor  temples,  the 
merciful  Lord  to  greet! 

Pleasant  the  cool  of  the  mosque,  the 
fountain,  the  soaring  column; 


THE   WAR   IN   EUROPE 

Dear  the  call  of  the  muezzin  to  prayer 

at  the  day's  decline; 
But  the  wind  of  the  waste  can  summon 

in  tones  more  tenderly  solemn, 
For  the  East  and  the  West  are  Allah's 

—  the  wilderness-ways  a  shrine. 

So,  if  this  infidel  host  at  the  Moslem 

gates  should  thunder, 
We  know  that  beneath  the  tumult 

will  be  Allah's  eternal  calm; 
Aye,  if  to  prove  our  faith  the  walls  should 

be  rent  asunder, 

He    will    build    them    again    more 
grandly  for  the  glory  of  Islam ! 


By  the  Prophet !   If  these  be  Christians, 
where  shall  we  find  the  Heathen  ? 
If  this  is  their  gospel  of  Love,  where 
shall  we  look  for  Hate  ? 

[  9  ] 


THE   WAR   IN    EUROPE 

With  the  lilies  of  Peace  their  Jesus  in 

temple  and  shrine  is  wreathen, 
But  they  raven  like  wolves  in  the  fold 
when  the  moon  is  late. 

Hark  to  the  roar  of  battle !  the  wail  for 

the  dead  and  the  dying! 
Prating  of  light  these  Christians  have 

shrouded  the  earth  in  gloom  ; 
Each  unto  God  or  Goddess  for  conquest 

and  gain  is  crying  — 
I  will  repeat  the  Fatiha  and  leave  them 
to  their  doom! 


A  MECCAN  PROPHECY1 

(1916) 

NOT  Roum,  but  Meccah!  where  the 

skies 

Lean  just  below  God's  Paradise, 
And  where  the  azure  dome  was  riven 
To  let  the  Black  Stone  fall  from  heaven ; 
Where  Abraham  prayed  and  Ishmael 
An  angel  led  to  Zem  Zem's  well, 
And  both  upbuilt  that  House  divine  — 
The  Kaabah,  earth's  most  holy  shrine; 
And  where  Our  Lord  Mohammed  came 
To  save  us  from  the  awful  flame. 

Ah,  when  we  heard  that  God  is  One, 
And  merciful,  and  that  we  dwell, 
Beyond,  in  Paradise  or  Hell 

As  we  have  kept  His  just  decrees  — 

» 


A    MECCAN    PROPHECY 

Praise  be  to  Allah!  round  the  world 
To  speed  the  truth  our  hosts  were  hurled ; 

Swift  as  the  light  we  made  it  run 
From  land  to  land  till  all  the  air 
Echoed  the  fervent  praise  or  prayer 

Of  suppliant  nations  on  their  knees, 
And  half  the  earth,  from  pine  to  palm, 
Was  won  for  Allah  and  Islam. 

Not  Roum,  but  Meccah!  Let  the  law 
Go  forth  where  first  the  Prophet  saw 
The  way  to  God,  and  where  he  lies 
Entombed  with  all  high  sanctities 
Of  earth  and  Heaven.  The  Turk's  dark 

hour 

Must  pass.  The  Arab's  day  of  power 
Dawns  newly,  and  the  desert  still 
Shall  have  the  vision  and  the  will 
To  move  the  world ! 


A  SEA-BIRD 
(Off  Peru) 

O  TO  be  a  sea-bird  one  celestial  day, 
Sailing,   sailing,  sailing  past   the  wind 

away! 
All  the  crested  billows  rolling  bright 

below, 
All  the  boundless  heaven  balm  and  light 

and  glow; 
Ah,  what  life,  what  rapture  wide-winged 

thus  to  fly, 
In  God's  azure  only  sun  and  sea  and  I ! 

O  to  poise  in  ether,  high  o'er  cloudy 

bars, 
Where    the    cross    at    midnight   burns 

among  the  stars ! 
See,  to  eastward,  Andes  lift  their  snows 

in  air, 


A    SEA-BIRD 

Westward    bowery    islands   beckoning, 

Eden-fair ; 
Ah,  what  life,  what  rapture,  wide-winged 

thus  to  fly, 
In  God's  azure  only  sun  and  sea  and  I ! 

O  the  primal  freedom,  O  the  glori 
ous  ease, 

Flashing  down  the  breakers,  floating 
with  the  breeze ! 

Still  in  rosy  morning,  sunset's  golden 
shine, 

Sailing,  sailing,  sailing  blithe  above  the 
brine ! 

Ah,  what  life,  what  rapture,  wide-winged 
thus  to  fly, 

In  God's  azure  only  sun  and  sea  and  I ! 


THE  TRYST  BY  THE  GRAND 
CANYON5 

A  REALM  of  dreams  is  that  sublimest 

chasm 
Cleft     by    the     gods     in    Arizona's 

plain, 
Where  peak  on  peak,  shrine,  fortress, 

weird  phantasm, 

Crowd  the  abyss  and  make  our  gran 
deur  vain  ! 
Where,   with  the   dawn,  full  many  a 

dome  and  palace 
Fair  as  Aladdin's,  fronts  the  terraced 

wall, 
And    towering    altar-pile    and    carven 

chalice 

Shine  with  the  hues    of  heaven   at 
evening's  fall. 

t  is.] 


TRYST   BY   THE    GRAND    CANYON 

Where,   south,  loom   Karnaks    on   the 

wide  horizon  — 
Sphinx,  temple,   obelisk,  to  hail  the 

sun ; 
North,   slow   cloud-shadows    pass    like 

herds  of  bison 
Trailing  across  the  gorges,  bold  and 

dun; 

Where,  in    its    awful    bed,   the    Colo 
rado, 
Curbless,  triumphant,  to  the  hot  Gulf 

goes, 

And  dreams,  in  quiet  pools,  of  moun 
tain  meadow, 

And  the  far  splendor   of  Wyoming 
snows. 

There  when  the  sun  sets  and  the  glows 

are  paling, 

And  sorrowing  winds  make  moan  by 
fane  and  tree  — 

[  '6] 


TRYST   BY   THE    GRAND    CANYON 

Such   sorrow  as   through    Hades   went 

bewailing 

The    glory  vanished   with   Perseph 
one  — 
When   mid   their   crags  the  mountain 

sheep  are  folded, 
And  the  cliff  eagles   to  their  eyries 

flown, 
While  all  the  mighty  forms  the  gods 

have  moulded, 

Wrap  them  in  purple  dusk  and  grieve 
alone ; 

When  the  fond  moon  has  climbed  the 

eastern  mountains 
And   silvered  all  her  waiting  peaks 

and  pines 
Past    Rio    Grande's,    Colorado's    foun- 

.  tains,  — 

The    Ancient    People    throng   their 
wonted  shrines. 

[173 


TRYST    BY   THE    GRAND    CANYON 

Silent  as  mists  they  steal   by  cliff  and 

hollow ; 
With  soundless  feet  they  thread  the 

woodland  ways ; 
Only  the  wind,  low-breathing,  dares  to 

follow 

Their  flitting  bands  through  pass  and 
darkling  maze. 

Hark  !  you  may  almost  hear  the  incan 
tations, 
The  rhythmic  dance,  the  chant,  the 

murmured  prayer, 

And,    from   afar,    the  faint  reverbera 
tions 
Of    cry     and     drum-beat    thrilling 

through  the  air  — 

The  herald's  call,  perchance,  when  dan 
ger  hovers, 

And  chiefs  and  clans  for  council  he 
must  rouse, 


TRYST   BY   THE   GRAND    CANYON 

The  laugh  of  children,  speech  of  happy 

lovers 
Soft  as  the  sighing  in  the  cedar  boughs. 

But  ere  day  brightens  Coconino's  dim 
ness, 
Or    proud    Francisco's    peaks    have 

caught  its  rose, 
Or  with  its  flush  the   gray  walls   lose 

their  grimness, 
Ah,  whither?  —  and  the  night  wind 

only  knows  — 
The  night  wind  and  the  stars  that  watch 

forever 
Above  the  shrines  where  their  brown 

children  throng, 

And,  swift  beneath,  the  lone,  triumph 
ant  river 
That  bears  their  secret  seaward  with 

its  song ! 
. 

[   '9  ] 


TRYST    BY   THE   GRAND    CANYON 

A   realm  of  dreams   is    that  sublimest 

chasm 

Cleft  by  the  gods  in  Arizona's  plain, 
Where  peak  on  peak,  shrine,  fortress, 

weird  phantasm, 
Crowd    the    abyss    and    make    our 

grandeur  vain  ! 
Where  festal  sounds  are  heard  if  we  but 

harken, 
And    shy    forms    flit    and    meet   till 

moonlight  wanes, 
And  the  wind  dies,  and  eerie  shadows 

darken, 

For   over   peak    and   plain  enchant 
ment  reigns. 


THE  WAY  TO  WAKONDA* 

(The  Great  Spirit  of  the  Omaha  Indians) 

WAKONDA'S  way  is  the  way  of  the  wind 

That  blows  from  star  to  star ; 
And  he  who  would  find  Wakonda 

And  the  land  where  the  Vanished  are, 
Must  follow,  follow,  follow 

The  west  wind  in  its  flight, 
And  lo  !  he  will  reach  Wakonda 

And  the  Land  of  all  Delight ! 

So  long  is  the  trail  to  Wakonda, 

And  the  end  thereof  so  sweet, 
To  the  feet  of  the  dead  their  moccasins 

We  tie  to  make  them  fleet ; 
And  we  know  they  will  never  wander 

With  cloud  or  moon  or  star, 
But  straight  will  speed  to  Wakonda 

And  the  Land  where  the  Loved  Ones 
are. 

[«  3 


A  WOMAN  OF  PARIS5 

(September,  1914) 

RETREATING  towards   the  Marne,  his 

regiment 
Would  pass  at  morn  a  neighboring 

suburb  through; 
And  thither  walked  his  glad  young  wife, 

intent 
To  see  her  soldier,  strong  and  brave 

and  true; 
And  in  her  arms,  or  pattering  with  light 

feet 
Beside  her  steps,  she  held  her  baby 

boy  — 
O  the  proud   moment  when   his   eyes 

should  greet 

Their  little    Victor    brimming  o'er 
with  joy ! 


A   WOMAN    OF   PARIS 

Upon  the  curb  she  stood  as  past  they 

filed, 
When  something  barred  the  way  and, 

unawares, 
The  march  a  moment  stayed;  then  wife 

and  child 
Saw,  in  the  line,  the  father's  friend 

and  theirs  — 
Christophe,  the  corporal,  who  quickly 

spied 

The  eager  wife  he  knew  as  girl  and  bride, 
And,  springing  from  the  ranks,  he  seized 

her  arm : 

"Courage,  courage,  Madame!   Tour  bus- 
band  fell 
Tester  day,  by  my  side,  at  Maux"  .  .  . 

Ah,  well  .  .  . 
Ah,  well    .    .    .    her  eyelids  closed,  her 

heart  stood  still  .  .   . 
What  joy  henceforth   can  wile,   what 

grief  can  harm !   .  .  . 


A   WOMAN    OF   PARIS 

Then    swift     above     her     head,    with 

deathless  will 
She  raised  her  boy,  presenting  him,  and 

cried, 
For  all  her  anguish,  "Vive  la  France!" 

A  thrill 
Ran  through  the  throng,  and  with  the 

line's  advance 
Cheers  filled  the  morning  sky  for  her 

and  France 

As  if  no  soldier  in  his  place  had  died !  — 
For    France,    secure,    invincible,   im 
mortal, 
While   women  such  as  she   are   at  its 

portal ! 


PERSIA  TO   EUROPE6 

(1911) 

You  scorn  us  ?  You  dream  we  are  ready 
to  yield 

Our  realm  at  the  threat  of  your  armies 
afield? 

Tou,  race  of  wild  rovers  or  forests  your 
home 

When  we  towered  resplendent  ere  Ath 
ens  or  Rome  ? — 

Our  grandeurs  of  old  we  can  never  for 
get, 

And  the  Mede  and  the  Persian  abide 
with  us  yet. 

From  the  gulfs  of  the  south  to  Tehran 
and  Tabriz' 

We  are  rousing  from  sleep  and  submis 
sion  and  ease ; 


PERSIA   TO    EUROPE 

Is  it  just  to  assail  us,  yet  hardly  awake, 

When  we  need  all  our  valor  and  vigor 
to  break 

The  bonds  that  have  kept  us  in  weak 
ness  and  wrong? — 

Away  with  your  dirges  and  cheer  us  with 
song! 

For  by  our  Avesta,  that  gospel  of  God 
Leading  upward  the  soul  to  His  crystal 

abode ; 
By  thy  columns,  Persepolis,  crowning 

the  plain 
Where  age  after  age  saw  thy  glorious 

reign ; 
By  the  snow  of  Elburz';  by  the  Sun  in 

the  sky ; 
By  Ormuzd  and  Allah  —  our  rule  shall 

not  die ! 


CHARLES  GEORGE  GORDON 

(Died  at  Khartoum,  January  26,  1885) 

NOT  Kilimanjaro  towering  to  the  sun 
Could  mate  his  grandeur  as  he  stood, 

at  morn  — 
The  last  hope  vanished,  the  last  moment 

run  — 
Facing  his  murderous  foes  with  silent 

scorn 
Till  his   high  soul  was  freed  in  Afric 

air !   ... 
Then  from  the  sorrowing  world  there 

burst  acclaim 

For  him,  abandoned,  yet  above  despair, 
For  him  who  boldest  paths  of  service 

trod, 

Forever  in  the  shadow  or  the  flame ! 
And  so  he  perished  —  he,  a  knight  of 

God  — 
Ah,  deathless  is  the  glory,  is  the  shame ! 

['7]' 


MOUNT   TACOMA' 

(Washington) 

I  AM  Tacoma,  Monarch  of  the  Coast ! 
Uncounted  ages  heaped  my  shining 

snows ; 
The  sun  by  day,  by  night  the  starry 

host, 
Crown     me    with    splendor;     every 

breeze  that  blows 
Wafts  incense   to   my  altars ;    never 

wanes 

The  glory  my  adoring  children  boast, 
For  one  with  sun  and  sea  Tacoma 
reigns ! 

Tacoma  —  the    Great   Snow    Peak  — 

mighty  name 

My  dusky  tribes  revered  when  time 
was  young ! 

[28] 


MOUNT   TACOMA 

Their    god    was    I    in    avalanche    and 

flame  — 
In  grove   and   mead   and   songs  my 

rivers  sung 
As  blithe  they,  ran  to  make  the  valleys 

fair  — 
Their  Shrine  of  Peace  where  no  avenger 

came 

To  vex  Tacoma,  lord  of  earth  and 
air. 

Ah !  when  at  morn  above  the  mists  I 
tower 

And  see  my  cities  gleam  by  slope  and 

strand, 

What  joy  have  I  in  this  transcendent 
dower — 

The  strength  and  beauty  of  my  sea 
girt  land 

That    holds    the    future    royally   in 
fee! 


MOUNT   TACOMA 

And     lest    some    danger,    undescried, 

should  lower, 

From   my  far  height  I  watch  o'er 
wave  and  lea. 

And  cloudless  eves  when  calm  in  heaven 

I  rest, 

All  rose-bloom  with  a  glow  of  paradise, 
And  through  my  firs  the  balm-wind  of 

the  west, 

Blown  over  ocean  islands,  softly  sighs, 
While  placid  lakes  my  radiant  image 

frame  — 
And    know  my  worshipers,  in   loving 

quest, 

Will  mark  my  brow  and  fond  lips 
breathe  my  name : 

Enraptured  from  my  valleys  to  my  snows, 
I    charm    my    glow    to    crimson  — 
soothe  to  gray ; 

[3°] 


MOUNT   TACOMA 

And  when  the  encircling  shadow  deeper 

grows, 
Poise,  a  lone  cloud,  beside  the  starry 

way; 
Then,  while  my  realm  is  hushed  from 

steep  to  shore, 

I  yield  my  grandeur  to  divine  repose, 
And    know  Tacoma  reigns  forever- 
more  ! 


THE  FIRE-MAIDEN  AND  THE 
SNOW-PEAKS8 

(An  Indian  legend  of  the  Columbia) 

LOOWIT,  the  beautiful  maiden  * 

Who  gave  the  Red  men  fire 
That  the  tents  might  bask  in  its  rosy 
light 

And  laugh  at  winter's  ire  — 
Lit  their  hearts  with  a  fiercer  flame 

Of  love  and  wild  desire. 
Fair  was  she  as  the  morning  star ; 

Lithe  as  a  fawn  at  play ; 
And  the  fire  she  fed  was  the  only  fire 

In  all  the  world  that  day. 

A  hundred  suitors  thronged  her  feet 
From  valley  and  wood  and  ridge, 
But  she  sat,  unmoved,  by  her  blazing 

brands 

On  the  tahmanawas  bridge  — 
[  32] 


FIRE-MAIDEN   AND    SNOW-PEAKS 

The  bridge  that  Saghalie,  chief  of  the 

gods, 

Arched  over  the  mighty  river, 
That  the  tribes  might  come  and  go  at 

will 
And  brothers  be  forever. 

Unmoved  she  sat,  in  her  maiden  dreams, 

Above  the  river's  flow 
Till  bold  from  the  north  came  Klicki- 
tat 

Challenging  friend  and  foe, 
While  mountain  lion  and  grizzly  fled 

From  the  shafts  of  his  conquering 

bow; 
Till  blithe  from  the  west  came  Wiyeast, 

Valiant  and  tall  was  he  — 
The  eagle  paused  in  its  upward  flight 

His  goodly  form  to  see  ; 
And  with  them  were  their  faithful  braves 

Eager  the  maid  to  hold, 

[33  ] 


FIRE-MAIDEN    AND    SNOW-PEAKS 

And  vowing  she  should  wed  their  chief 
Ere  the  young  moon  was  old. 

They  wooed  with   gifts    and   honeyed 

words, 

They  showed  their  prowess  there 
In  swiftest  race  and  wondrous  game 

And  all  that  men  may  dare ; 
But  she  could  not  choose  between  the 

twain, 

Nor  would  she  say  them  nay, 
And  with  bitter  thoughts  they  saw  the  sun 

Turn  westward,  day  by  day, 
And    the    smoke    of  her    hearth  float 

darkly  up 

Till  all  the  sky  was  gray. 
Then   madness   seized  them  and   they 

closed 

In  battle's  awful  strife 
Till  the  stream  ran  red  with  the  blood 
of  the  slain 

[34] 


FIRE-MAIDEN   AND    SNOW-PEAKS 

And  death  had  more  than  life  — 
Till  the  wind  went  by  like  a  sea-bird's  cry 
And  the  air  with  moans  was  rife. 

Saghalie  heard  and  was  wroth,  and  cried, 
"  Behold  now,  who  is  stronger ! 
The  cruel  maid  and  the  furious  chiefs 

Shall  live  to  war  no  longer ! " 
And  he  shook  the  earth  till  the  great 

bridge  reeled 

And  plunged  in  the  mighty  river, 
And  with  lightning's  flash  and  thunder's 

crash 

The  three  were  gone  forever ! 
Nor  time  nor  tide,  the  roar  of  the  wreck 
From  the  fallen  dalles  can  sever ! 

"  But  they  were  mine,"  said  Saghalie, 
"And  they  shall  tower  in  snow, 

To  greet  the  sun  at  his  rise  and  set, 
And  guard  the  river's  flow." 
[35] 


FIRE-MAIDEN   AND    SNOW-PEAKS 

And  Wiyeast    soars   in    grand    Mount 

Hood; 

In  Adams  Klickitat  shines ; 
And  beautiful  Loowit  lifts  her  head 

In  rare  Saint  Helen's  lines  — 
Loowit,     the     maid    of    the    glowing 

hearth, 

Who  gave  the  Red  men  fire, 
That  the  tents  might  bask  in  its  rosy 

light 

And  laugh  at  winter's  ire. 
The  lovers  gaze  on  her  radiant  brow 

But  never  may  call  her  bride, 
And   thus,  while  the   ages  pass,    they 

tower 

Alone,  but  glorified, 
And  the  river,  the  mighty  Oregon, 
Rolls  proudly  at  their  side. 


ON  THE  MASSACHUSETTS  COAST 

(NIGHT) 

O  THE  gloom  of  the  night  with  the 

wind  and  the  rain 

Howling  in,  beating  in  from  the  deso 
late  main, 
And  anon  with  a  cry  o'er  the  tempest 

prevailing 
Some  wreck  of  the  deep  the  wild  ruin 

bewailing ! 
From  the  Shoals  to  Nantucket  the  lights 

are  half  hid 
The  rush  and  the  roar  of  the  breakers 

amid; 
Ships   turn  from   their   moorings;  the 

boats  are  adrift ; 
Not    a    merciful    star    looking    down 

through  a  rift ; 

[37] 


ON   THE   MASSACHUSETTS    COAST 

But  blackness  and  fear  with  the  wind 
and  the  rain 

Howling  in,  beating  in  from  the  deso 
late  main. 

(MORNING) 

Now  the  sun  tips  with  fire  every  wave's 

tossing  crest ; 
The  gulls  are  blown  seaward,  the  wind's 

in  the  west ; 

And  the  wide-rolling  deep  and  the  kelp- 
laden  shore 

See  cloud  and  fog  fleeing  to  gray  Labrador. 
The  ships,  all  a-thrill  with  the  joy  of 

the  breeze, 
Sail  portward  as  light  as  the  foam  on 

the  seas; 
Not  a  film  in  the  sky — not  a  mote  in 

the  air  — 
The    blue    seems    the    bright    wall    of 

heaven  laid  bare  — 

[38] 


ON  THE   MASSACHUSETTS    COAST 

And  the   gloom  of  the  night  and  its 

ghostly  cry  scorning, 
We  are  glad  in  the  azure  and  splendor 

of  morning  ! 


AN  ANGEL 

AT  my  window  there 's  an  angel 

Robed  in  flame  — 
Orange,  emerald,  vermilion ! 
Countless  treasure  —  not  a  trillion  - 
Though  you  heaped  it  to  the  sky, 
Of  the  gems  of  earth  could  buy 
Such  magnificence  of  color, 
Such  release  from  gray  and  dolor, 

All  things  tame, 
As  this  wondrous  angel  brings 
(O  the  ravishing  evangel!) 
In  the  splendor  of  his  wings  — 
Orange,  emerald,  vermilion, 
Gold  of  sunset,  rose  of  dawn  — 

And  his  name? 
'T  is  the  maple  on  the  lawn ! 

[40] 


EBB   AND   FLOW 

SAID  Earth  in  the  darkness  wailing 

As  morningward  she  turned, 
"Alas  for  the  golden  summers 

Along  my  peaks  that  burned ! 
And  alas  for  the  beautiful  maidens 
Who  danced  on  the  flowery  leas, 
And  my  sons  so  bold  in  camp  and 

mart 

And  out  on  the  stormy  seas ; 
Like  the  rose   and   the  palm  they 

faded 

And  fell  by  a  merciless  doom  — 
Alas  for  the  beauty  and  valor, 
While  I  roll  on,  a  tomb  ! 

"  No  cliff  of  the  loftiest  'mountains, 
No  deepest  cave  of  the  sea, 


EBB   AND   FLOW 

But    is    mingled    of   dust    that   once 
had  life 

And  has  gone  afar  from  me: 
The  aeons  were  brief  to  tell  my  grief, 

The  wide  sky  has  not  room, 
My  winds  chant  dirges  evermore 

While  I  roll  on,  a  tomb ! 

"  Soon  will  the  warm  May  twilights 

Be  thrilling  with  lovers'  words ; 
I  shall  hear  the  laughter  of  children, 

The  songs  of  nesting  birds  ; 
But  I  know  the  shadow  will  follow, 

And  my  heart  is  lost  in  gloom 
As  I  think  of  the  infinite  myriads  dead, 
While  I  roll  on,  their  tomb ! " 
•          •          •          •          • 

Morning  floods  the  sky  with  splendor ; 

Lo !  an  angel  in  the  sun 
Crying,  "  Life  is  lord  forever ! 

Life  and  death,  O  Earth ,  are  one  ! 
[42] 


EBB    AND    FLOW 


As  the  tides  rejoice  the  ocean,  summers  wake 

or  still  the  sod, 
So  Life  ebbs  and  ^ flows  forever,  pulsing 

with  the  heart  of  God  I " 


TO-MORROW 

"  To-morrow !    O    the   glorious    To-mor 
row!" 

The  soul  forever  cries ; 
"  Balm  it  will  bring  for  every  hurt  and 

sorrow 
In  the  fair  land  that  lies 

Just  yonder,  hidden  from  our  earthly 

vision, 

But  waiting,  waiting  there 
With     fullest      compensations,     joys 

elysian, 
Nor  blight  of  dole  or  care. 

To-day  on  shore  and  sea  the  tempest 

rages, 

The  wild  winds  never  cease; 
[44] 


TO-MORROW 

To-morrow!  —  Ah!  the  thought  of  it 

assuages 

The  storm  till  all  is  peace." 
•          •          •          •          • 

No  idle  dream,  but  prophecy  eternal, 
This  rapture  of  the  soul  — 

This   grand  outreaching  for  the   life 

supernal 
Though  whelming  billows  roll. 

It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  worlds 
benigner 

Within  God's  aeons  bide, 
But  oh,  forever,  days  will  dawn  diviner, 

And  we  be  satisfied ! 


DANIEL  WEBSTER' 

(At  his  Birthplace) 

HONOR  the  home  that  reared  him!  — 
the  hills,  the  wood,  the  stream 

That  heard  his  earliest  accents,  that 
shared  his  earliest  dream! 

A  place  it  is  for  pilgrimage  —  for  grati 
tude  to  shrine 

A  name  and  fame  whose  grandeur  will 
never  know  decline; 

And  with  gladness  and  remembrance  and 
reverent  accord, 

For  his  greatness  and  his  service  we 
bless  and  praise  the  Lord. 

From  his  own  Kearsarge  and  Katahdin 
to  Shasta's  dome  of  snow, 

From  Superior's  pines  to  the  tropic  Gulf 
where  the  palm  and  the  orange 
grow, 

[46] 


DANIEL   WEBSTER 

He  loved  his  Land  and  in  dreams  beheld 

the  splendor  of  its  prime  — 
A  mighty  nation  nobly  dowered  for  a 

destiny  sublime; 
And  he  strove  to  weld  the  States  in  one 

with  a  strength  no  power  could 

sever, 
For  the  cry  of  his  heart  was,  "  Liberty 

and  Union,  now  and  forever !" 

We  think  of  him  as  a  mountain  peak 
that  towers  above  the  lea, 

Where  sunshine  falls  and  lightnings 
flash  and  all  the  winds  blow 
free; 

And  his  voice  comes  back  like  the  swell 
ing  chant,  within  some  minster 
old, 

That  floods  the  nave  and  thrills  the 
aisles  and  dies  in  a  strain  of 
gold! 

[47] 


DANIEL   WEBSTER 

So  lofty  his  eloquence,  high  his  mien, 

had  he   walked   the   Olympian 

plain 
The  listening,  wondering  throngs  had 

seen  great  Zeus  come  down  to 

reign; 
For  beneath  the  blue  or  in  stately  halls, 

he  swayed  the  hearts  of  men, 
As  the  boughs  are  swayed  by  the  rush 
ing  wind  that  sweeps  o'er  wood 

and  glen  — 
As  the  earth  is  swayed  by  the  primal 

fires  that  burn  beyond  our  ken. 
And  when  nor  plea  nor  prayer  availed 

war's  awful  strife  to  shun, 
His  fervor  glowed  in  the  flag  aloft  and 

nerved  each  loyal  gun, 
And  above  the  roar  of  battle  and  the 

rage  of  mad  endeavor, 
His  cry  still  echoed, "  Liberty  and  Union, 

now  and  forever! " 

[48] 


DANIEL    WEBSTER 

Honor  the  home  that  reared  him !  — 

the  hills,  the  wood,  the  stream 
That   heard    his   earliest    accents,  that 

shared  his  earliest  dream! 
Beyond  earth's  fret  and  censure  how  deep 

the  joy  to  him 
That  the  Union  lives,  resplendent,  not 

one  star  lost  or  dim; 
And  while  the  skies  enfold  Kearsarge 

and   the    meadows    Merrimack 

River, 
From  sea  to  sea,  shall  our  watchword  be 

his  patriot  heart-cry,  "Liberty 

and  Union,  now  and  forever ! " 


CONCORD  BY  THE  MERRI MACK- 
SERENE  amid  the  meadows 

Her  seasons  come  and  go; 
To  north  her  glorious  mountains, 

Her  ocean  tides  below. 
No  Capital  she  envies 

Its  peak  or  plain  or  river — 
Fair  Concord  by  the  Merrimack, 

Whose  fame  is  ours  forever! 

New  Hampshire's  treasured  story 

She  guards  within  a  shrine 
As  rare  as  Rome  or  Athens  built 

To  those  they  held  divine; 
For  her  sons  come  back  to  crown 
her— 

Their  ties  they  cannot  sever — 
Fair  Concord  by  the  Merrimack 

Whose  fame  is  ours  forever ! 
[5o] 


CONCORD    BY   THE  MERRIMACK 

Still  may  the  years  bring  wisdom 

And  honor  to  her  halls ; 
Still  her  proud  sons  be  eager 

To  serve  when  valor  calls, 
And  see  their  Capital  for  aye 

Of  light  and  joy  the  giver — 
Fair  Concord  by  the  Merrimack 

Whose  fame  is  ours  forever ! 


THE  CAGED   ROBIN11 

AT  the  Pantheon  of  Mexico, 

Through  San  Fernando's  gate, 
In  a  dim  and  dusty  corridor 

I  chanced  one  morn  to  wait, 
When,  from  the  wall  above  me, 

I  heard  a  pleading  note 
As  if  a  song  had  turned  to  sighs 

Within  a  tiny  throat, 
And  lo,  a  northern  robin, 

Far  from  his  heritage, 
With  drooping  wings  and  half-shut 
eyes 

Locked  in  a  narrow  cage ! 

Morelos  and  Guerrero  — 

Rare  bronze  and  stone,  were  there, 
And  Juarez,  mourned  of  Mexico, 

Ah,  never  rest  so  fair ! 
And  from  the  Alameda 


THE   CAGED    ROBIN 

Wild  music  wafted  down  — 
But  what  cared  he  for  heroes  dead, 

Or  all  the  Aztec  town  ? 
His  mate  was  in  the  Northland 

Where  she  would  build  her  nest 
By  the  apple  blooms  of  the  orchard, 

On  the  bough  she  loved  the  best, 
And  O  to  be  free  and  flying  home 

Past  mount  and  wood  and  bay  — 
Home  to  the  cool,  green  orchard, 

Beneath  the  sky  of  May ! 
And  suddenly  he  spread  his  wings 

As  if  to  take  the  air, 
But  wearily  sank  back  again 

To  the  quiet  of  despair.  . 
Then,  from  the  sombre  gateway, 

I  heard  my  comrades  call, 
And  gained  the  street,  but  my  heart 
was  left 

With  the  robin  on  the  wall. 


BOLfVAR 

(At  the  Pantheon,  Caracas) 

BoLfvAR !  Venezuela  brings 

To  thee  her  richest  offerings ; 

But  bounds  are  not  for  fame  like  thine  — 

The  continent  is  still  thy  shrine ; 

Yea,   North   and   South   through   thee 

are  one, 
Thou  peer  and  heir  of  Washington ! 

And  while  La  Guayra's  vale  is  fair 
And  Avila  climbs  proud  in  air, 
While  Maracaibo's  mirror  glows 
And  Orinoco  seaward  flows, 
Thy    name,   thy    glorious    deeds    shall 

stand, 
The  bulwark  of  thy  native  land. 


[54] 


A  HERO  OF  CARACAS" 

CARACAS  !  when  I  think  of  thee 
I  hear  the  bells  chime  tunefully, 
The  bells  of  Spain  that  mark  the  hour 
Within  thy  gray  cathedral  tower, 

And  echo  sweet  and  faint  and  far 

/ 

Where  Avila's  green  summits  bar, 
Beyond  the  vale,  the  northern  sea  — 
The  shining,  storied  Caribee. 

Superb  in  bronze  and  porphyries 
I  see,  within  the  plaza  trees, 
Victorious  thy  Bolivar  ride ; 
And  'gainst  the  mountain's  bosky  side, 
Within  the  Pantheon  where  rest 
Thy  noblest  and  thy  mightiest, 
In  stately  pomp  his  urn  enshrined, 
A  paean  sung  by  every  wind ! 
And  lo,  to  south,  our  Washington 
[55  ] 


A   HERO    OF   CARACAS 

Faces  serene  the  tropic  sun, 

Benignant,  firm,  thy  hills  before, 

As  on  his  fair  Potomac  shore, 

And  at  his  feet,  in  endless  May, 

Thy  merry,  dark-browed  children  play : 

Honor  is  his,  by  every  sea, 

Who  won  the  world  for  Liberty ! 

But  where  is  bronze  or  urn  for  him 
Whose  fame  should  never  lapse  or  dim 
While  Caribee  thy  border  laves  ? 
Hast  thou  no  grave,  of  all  thy  graves, 
To  give  the  boldest  of  thy  braves  ? 
No  pedestal  whereon  to  set 
The  chief  nor  peaks  nor  vales  forget  ?  — 
Great  Guaicaipu'ro,  name  to  raise 
The   dead   with,    and  to    crown   with 
bays ! 

Mould  in  metal  or  carve  in  stone 
This  Indian  hero !  Make  him  known 
[56] 


A   HERO    OF    CARACAS 

With  thy  Bolivar  as  he  stood, 
Despairing,  fierce,  that  night  of  blood 
When  country,  freedom,  life  were  lost 
As  round  him  closed  the  invading  host 
With  thrust  of  sword  and  pall  of  flame 
And  shouts  that  stayed  the  stars  in  shame ; 
And,  dying,  to  his  gods  he  cried 
For  vengeance,  and  in  crying,  died  !  .  .  . 
Set  the  statue  where  all  may  heed, 
And  on  its  flawless  marble  read, 
(Perchance  his  curse  were  lighter  thus — 
Lifted  a  shadow  from  thy  strand — ) 
To  Guaicaipuro  valorous, 
Defender  of  his  native  land. 


DOUGLAS 

THERE  's  an  old,  old  song  with  a  sweet 

refrain  — 

"Douglas,  Douglas,  tender  and  true"! 
It  was  sung  of  a  man  by  Scotia's  main  — 
A  man  of  a  noble,  knightly  strain  — 
But  Douglas,  my  collie,  't  was  meant 
for  you. 

With  your  regal  air  and  ruff  of  snow, 

Your  soft  dark  eyes  for  caress  that  sue, 
Your  welcoming  bark,  now  loud,  now 

low, 

And  your  glad  response  to  love,  I  know 
The  old,  sweet  song  was  meant  for 

you  — 
"  Douglas,  Douglas,  tender  and  true." 

[58  ] 


FORGIVENESS 

A  MOTHER,  with  her  darling 
Whose  four  years  just  had  run, 

Bade  him  ask  God's  forgiveness 
For  something  he  had  done; 

Then  left  him  alone  by  the  garden, 
In  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun. 

A  moment  —  and  he  came  flying 
Back  through  the  blooms  of  May : 

"  O  mother,  I  did  ask  Him, 

And  quick  I  heard  him  say, 

*  Yes,  child,  I  do  forgive  you ; 
Now  you  may  go  and  play/  ' 

Ah !  with  our  many  lapses, 

How    blest    could    we    hear    Him 
say, 

[59] 


FORGIVENESS 


"  Yes,  child,  I  do  forgive  you ; 

Now  you  may  go  and  play." 
The  peace  that  passeth  knowledge 
Would  be  in  our  hearts  that  day ! 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD 

THROUGH  storm  and  sun  the  age  draws 

on 

When  Heaven  and  earth  shall  meet, 
For  the  Lord  has  said  that  glorious 

He  will  make  the  place  of  His  feet ; 
And  the  grass  may  die  on  the  summer 

hills, 

The  flower  fade  by  the  river, 
But  our  God  is  the  same  through  end 
less  years, 
And  His  word  shall  stand  forever. 

And  they  shall  meet  in  love  that  knows 
Nor  race  nor  creed  nor  clime, 

For  the  world  shall  be  one  brotherhood 
In  that  celestial  time  ; 

And  happiness  shall  be  the  air, 
And  righteousness  the  sod, 
[61  ] 


THE   KINGDOM    OF   GOD 

And  earth  go  singing  on  her  way 
About  the  throne  of  God ! 

"  What  of  the  night  ? "    O  Watchman 

set 

To  mark  dawn's  earliest  ray : 
"  The  wind  blows  fair  from  the  morn 
ing  star, 

Fair  from  the  gates  of  day ; 
And  over  sorrow  and  sighing  shines 

The  Dream  of  Galilee  — 
The  Kingdom  of  God  that  shall  fill  the 

earth 
As  the  waters  fill  the  sea." 


NOTES 


NOTES 

1.  THE  Fatiha,  the  opening  chapter  of  the 
Koran,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer  of  the  Mos 
lems,  runs  thus :  — 

"  Praise  be  to  God,  the  Lord  of  all  crea 
tures  ;  the  most  merciful,  the  king  of  the  day 
of  judgment.  Thee  do  we  worship,  and  of 
thee  do  we  beg  assistance.  Direct  us  in  the 
right  way,  in  the  way  of  those  to  whom  thou 
hast  been  gracious;  not  of  those  against 
whom  thou  art  incensed,  nor  of  those  who  go 
astray." 

2.  Roum,  in  Arabic  literature,  is  the  name 
for  Rome — Constantinople. 

3.  The  country  about  the  Grand  Canyon 
and  its  tributary  gorges  abounds  in  relics  of 
the  prehistoric  people  who  once  dwelt  there. 

4.  "  The  ceremony  of  each  village  (gens) 
had  a  central  subject,  some  form  or  force, 


NOTES 

having  its  abode  in  the  sky  or  on  the  earth, 
and  represented  by  a  symbol.  .  .  .  The  sym 
bol  may  be  an  animal,  as  the  buffalo,  or  a 
force,  as  the  wind,  and  the  people  be  spoken 
of  by  the  names  of  the  symbol  of  their  vil 
lage  ;  as,  the  c  buffalo  people/  or  the  c  wind 
people/  ...  It  was  the  duty  of  the  'wind 
people '  to  put  moccasins  on  the  feet  of  the 
dead,  that  they  might  enter  the  spirit  land 
and  there  be  recognized  and  able  to  rejoin 
their  kindred."  (Alice  C.  Fletcher,  in  The 
Indian  and  Nature.") 

5.  This  incident  is  told  in  Paris  Reborn 
(p.  91),  by  Herbert  Adams  Gibbons.  (The 
Century  Co.,  1915.) 

6.  I n  1 9 1 1 ,  with  the  seizure  of  Persian  ter 
ritory  by  Russia,  and  the  demands  of  Russia 
and  England,  the   Constitutional  and   Pro 
gressive  Party   felt  constrained    to  take  up 
arms  in  the  country's  defense. 

7.  "Tacoma" — the  Great  Snow  Peak  — 
is  the   beautiful,  ancient,    Indian    name    of 
Washington's  highest  mountain.  "Rainier" 

[66] 


NOTES,  //-,  ';,,    •' 

should  be  banished  from  speech  and  from  the 
maps. 

8.  ^he  Columbia  River,  by  W.  D.  Lyman, 
Whitman  College,  Oregon  ;  ^he  Guardians  of 
the  Columbia^  by  John  H.  Williams,  Tacoma, 
Washington. 

9.  Read  at  the  Daniel  Webster  Birthplace 
Celebration,  at    Franklin    (Salisbury),   New 
Hampshire,  August  28,  1913. 

10.  These  lines,  written  for  the  ifoth  An 
niversary  Celebration  of  the  Charter  of  Con 
cord,  New  Hampshire,  and  taken  by  the  City 
as  its  Song,  are  reprinted  by  request.    The 
"shrine"  therein  referred  to  is  the  beautiful 
building  of  the  New  Hampshire  Historical 
Society,  given    by   Mr.  Edward  Tuck,    of 
Exeter,  N.H.,  and  Paris,  France. 

11.  "The  recumbent  figure  of  Juarez,  the 
Indian    president,  rests    beneath   a    Grecian 
temple  of  purest  white  marble.     Half  sup 
porting  the    body  is   the  figure  of  Mexico 
mourning  for  her  dead." 


N'OTES 

12.  Guaicaipu'ro,  a  native  Indian  chief  of 
the  Caracas  region,  Venezuela,  resisted  des 
perately  the  incoming  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
in  1658,  attacked  in  his  mountain  retreat,  per 
ished  by  fire  and  sword,  with  his  last  breath 
invoking  vengeance  upon  the  invaders. 


Cfce 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U  .  S   .  A 


35800 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


